The Sweetness of a Rose
by starrysky7
Summary: "What's in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet." MichaelxOC
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to its rightful owners**

* * *

 _"What's in a name? That which we call a rose_

 _By any other name would smell as sweet."_

* * *

 **Chapter One** :

The car pulled up in the driveway, the chalet stepping out to open the door for her. Despite her protests that she was perfectly capable of driving herself, her maid had insisted that such a thing was just not proper. She may have gained wealth and independence, but she was still restricted to what was 'proper'.

Hurrying inside to the warmth, as though the weather may have been heating up, but it was still brisk at nighttime. Judging by the amount of people in the ballroom, she had to have arrived in the middle of the crowd. Her grandmother had always told her to arrive fashionably late, but she found this to be an obnoxious practice. Besides, she would practically been unknown at this event. Certainly a rarity for her.

"Evelyn," Grace called out, walking closer to her, "I'm so glad you made it."

The woman was dressed to impress, but the centrepiece of the outfit, was the blue sapphire necklace. It was beautiful, most definitely expensive, and Evelyn was sure she recognised it.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world. Especially considering I couldn't make it to your wedding." She replied, "Anyway, I always need an excuse to get out of the house."

"Well, you know, you're always welcome here." Grace said, her eyes moving to search around the room, "Tommy's around here somewhere."

"Oh, that's fine." Evelyn assured her, the pair being interrupted by a guest calling out to Grace, "I'm sure you need to continue your duties as hostess. I should probably go and mingle."

If she was being honest with herself, she was glad Grace's husband was nowhere to be found. There was something about Tommy Shelby that unnerved her, even though they'd only spoken a handful of times in the past few months. But it was the same thing she was sure made him so attractive to others. An air of mystery, and hint of danger. Probably more than a hint really.

Making her way over to the refreshments, she poured herself a glass, taking a sip. There was nobody in the room she recognised, and she was glad for it. Then no one could read into her choice of clothing.

The dress was white, complimenting her olive skin and dark hair. It was the first time she hadn't worn mourning clothes out in public. The appropriate time had passed, and it was now seen as acceptable to return to normality.

Looking around the room, she caught the eye of a young man across the room. Neither looked away, as would be proper. Ladies didn't make prolong eye contact with men. Especially in public places.

He was around medium height, not overly muscular but far from skinny, with light fair and what she thought to be blue eyes. Excusing himself from his current conversation, he sifted his way through the crowd towards her. Averting her eyes, she pretended not notice him approach.

"I must say that's a lovely dress." The man said, "Almost as beautiful as the woman who's wearing it."

"The flattery is much appreciated." Evelyn said, "Did you spend all that time over there eyeing up, just to come up with that doozy of line?" She asked, smirking at him

"Most would just take the compliment." He said, but he was clearly impressed by her confidence

"I'm not like most." She retorted

"I can see that." He noted, "I'm Michael," he told her, extending his hand to her, "What's your name?"

"Evelyn." She replied, holding his hand slightly longer than was appropriate

"No last name?"

"You didn't give me yours." She pointed out, "I'm rather a fan of equality."

"Gray."

She took a moment to think of her answer before speaking, "Ryder." She conceded, "So, are you simply an invitee, or do you know the Shelby's personally?"

"My mother's a Shelby." Michael answered, "You?"

"Recent friend of Grace's." She said, "I really just wanted to come and see the house. Maybe steal some precious jewels while I'm here. The usual stuff."

Michael chuckled, before growing concerned, "That was a joke right?"

"You'll find out tomorrow," She said, "If I've absconded with precious items never to be seen again."

"I wouldn't enjoy that."

"Why?"

"Because," he said, leaning forward, "I would very much like to see you again."

Unfortunately for them, they were interrupted by a woman Evelyn was familiar with, but actively disliked. Evelyn had met the Russiam Duchess at an event only a few months prior, and was instantly turned off by her haughty nature. She was proud for an aristocrat, and that was saying something.

"Oh, Evelyn, it's so nice to see you again." Tatiana said, and Evelyn painted a fake smile on her face, "And no longer in black I see. Mourning clothes are such horrid things aren't they."

"Yes, they are." Evelyn said, "What are you doing here?"

"Being charitable of course." Tatiana said, "I'm sure more people will come to the next event, seeing that a Duchess and a Marchioness attended this one." She revealed, causing Michael's eyebrows to go up in surprise, "Oh, does your date not know you are nobility?"

"It was really lovely seeing you again." Evelyn said, "Truly."

"Well, I'm sure this will not be the last time." Tatiana said, nodding towards them before departing

She, too, was sure they would see one another again. For, the world was not kind enough to allow her to never see Tatiana again.

Turning back to Michael, she was dismayed by his disappointment. One night of anonymity was all she asked for. But it was not to be.

"I'm sorry about her, she's," Evelyn said, searching for the appropriate word, "I think pestilential is the correct term to use."

"So, you're a, Marchioness?" Michael asked, "What are you doing here then?"

"Being charitable."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Guess I just didn't want you to start sucking up to me because of it." Evelyn said, "God forbid someone actually like me regardless of my station."

"Sorry," Michael mumbled,

She was about to assure him that no offence was taken, but her attention was drawn away by a shout from the crowd, and the sound of a gunshot ringing out.

Chaos ensued, the crowd frantically rushing towards the exit, to escape the danger. One would surely have expected her to join them, but she didn't, not when she saw who had been shot.

Pushing away from Michael, she practically fell down onto her knees beside her injured friend. Scrunching up her shawl she pressed it against Grace's shoulder, soaking up the blood. But it was too late. She was gone.

"Come on," Michael said, pulling her up to her feet, "We need to go."

Evelyn didn't protest as he lead her away from the carnage. The rest of the guests were fleeing, or had already fled. Looking down at her hands that were now covered in blood. She frantically begun to wipe it off of her dress, but Michael grabbed her hands to stop her.

"Are you okay?" He asked, and she nodded, "You sure."

"I'm, I'm fine." She mumbled, looking back towards the house, "Grace is, she's,"

"Are you hurt?" He asked, drawing her attention back to the present

"No." She responded, "Are you?"

"I'm fine." He replied, seeming genuinely surprised that she was focused on his wellbeing whilst under such stress,

"My Lady," her chalet, called out to her, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, Mr Jones."

"Get the car," Michael ordered, "Take her home."

Mr Jones ran off, leaving the pair of them alone. Evelyn was shaking, and she knew it wasn't from the cold. Gripping her arms, her eyes boring holes into the ground. Her stare was only broken when she felt something around her shoulders, and looked up to see Michael wrapping his coat around her.

"Thank you." She muttered,

Michael opened his mouth, but before he could reply, a woman ran towards them, screaming out his name.

"Oh, Michael," she said, pulling him into a hug, "Are you okay?"

"I'm alright mum." Michael assured her

"Who's that?" His mother asked, looking towards Evelyn

"Her name's Evelyn, she's a guest," Michael explained, "Is everyone else okay?"

"Yes. It was just Grace."

"And the shooter?"

The woman eyed up Evelyn, clearly not eager to say anything in front of the girl who was practically a stranger. "Come inside," the woman said, "The family needs you."

But Michael ignored the request, turning back to Evelyn, "Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine." She replied, as her car pulled up beside them, "It was, ah, I'm sorry for your loss."

Turning away, she didn't wait for her door to be opened to climb into the car. As they drove away, she simply stared in front of her. Grace was dead. She had just watched her friend be murdered. What kind of family was this?


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to its rightful owners**

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 _"I am one who loved not wisely but too well"_

 _Othello_

* * *

 **Chapter Two** :

It had been over a week since Grace's funeral, which Evelyn had not attended. The reason for which she was not entirely sure. She had rationalized that it was a private matter, and that she wished not to intrude. But she always heard her grandmother's voice in the back of her mind, telling her that it would be an embarrassment to the family to be seen in attendance at a gangster's funeral. Even if Grace herself was not one, her husband was, and she was killed because of it.

That was the logical part of her speaking. But the emotional part. That part reared its ugly head at night, when she replayed the scene over and over, and found herself curling up in the jacket Michael had given her. The inquisitive looks from her maids put a stop to this, and she'd sent it off to be cleaned and pressed. Now it was back, hanging over a chair, staring at her, begging her to be returned.

"Oh, what the hell." She muttered, throwing on a coat, and draping the jacket over her arm

Mr Jones didn't ask any questions when she told him she would be leaving, and did not know when she would return. He eyed the jacket in her arms, and looked as if he wanted to warn her against her current course of action, but he didn't.

For the entirety of the drive Evelyn was second guessing herself, and almost turned around on numerous occasions. Her nerves did not subside when she arrived, clutching the pie she had taken from the kitchen on her way out. Her mother had always told her to bring something when she visited others homes. Left a good impression.

She was just about to attempt to maneuver the pie in her arms to knock on the door, but it opened before she had to. Shaking off the shock, she smiled at the two women who stood before her. One looked to be about her own age, but the other she recognised. It was Michael's mother.

"Um, hello," Evelyn awkwardly greeted, "I just thought I'd come by," she explained, "I uh, brought pie, and Michael's jacket."

"Thank you very much." Michael's mother said, taking the food, "You best be on your way."

"Oh, but,"

"Evelyn," Michael said, walking closer to the door, "Please, come in."

Squeezing in between the two women, she smiled sweetly at them, not allowing their suspicious looks to cause her to drop the civility that had been drilled into her since birth. Following behind Michael, he led her into the drawing room, gesturing for her to take a seat.

"What are you doing here?" Michael asked, closing the door before moving to lean against the wall

"I'm returning your jacket." Evelyn explained, handing it up to him, "I, uh, had it cleaned, and pressed."

"Thanks." He muttered, "You didn't come to the funeral."

"I thought it would be more of a family affair," she said, "How are Mr Shelby, and Charles?"

"Mr Shelby?" Michael asked, pulling out a cigarette, and lighting it up

"I'm used to formalities." She shrugged, "To refer to acquaintances by their first name is seen as inappropriate."

"Do you call me by my name?"

"Yes." She admitted, refusing to acknowledge that by that definition he was either more than an acquaintance, or an exception. "So, how are they?"

"Gone." He revealed, "But they'll be back."

"Well, do you need any help with anything?" Evelyn asked, wondering where the ease of their first encounter had disappeared to,

"Why are you really here?" Michael asked, "I have other jackets. You didn't need to return this one."

"And here I was under the assumption that you were the one who wished to see me again." Evelyn defended, "Or have I horribly miscalculated this situation?"

"I do want to see you," he replied, "But why do you want to see me?"

"Why do you want to see me?" Evelyn echoed, "See, I can cast doubt on your intentions too." She said, sighing, before continuing, "In truth, we had one of the most engaging conversations I've had with a man in awhile."

"The men you've met must be terrible."

"Well, they were all offering their condolences, and openly flirting me would not have been appropriate." Evelyn explained, "You see, I lied to you. My last name's not Ryder. At least not anymore."

"Than what is it?"

"Seymour," Evelyn answered, "That's my married name."

"Married name?" Michael clarified, "You're married?"

"I was. He died a year ago." Evelyn said, holding up her hand, "And before you say it, please don't give me your condolences. I'm sick of hearing how strangers are sorry for his death."

"I'd say I understand how you feel, but I don't have any dead wives." Michael said, "You, aren't exactly what I imagined a widow to look like."

"You mean I'm rather young." She corrected, "I know."

"If you don't mind me asking," he said, moving to take the seat beside her, "But how did he die?"

"Spanish Flu. Contracted it about a week after the wedding." Evelyn recounted, "Killed him rather quickly. Because of how infectious it is, his mother wasn't allowed to see him for fear that she'd contract it." She said, "I remember holding her as she sobbed. He was her only child, and she didn't last much longer."

"I couldn't imagine how difficult that was for you."

"It really wasn't as difficult as it would be for others." Evelyn admitted, "I'd only known him for two months prior to our marriage. He was a good person, but my personal grief wasn't what a wife's should be."

"Why did you only know him a month?" Michael asked, "Were you forced into it?"

"No. I mean, not in a manner of speaking." Evelyn said, "I could've said no. But as the only daughter of an Earl, there are certain expectations. My father told me he was a good man, and I trusted his judge of character."

"What if he had been wrong?" He asked, "What if your husband hadn't been a good man?"

"Than, most likely, after I'd had an heir, we live in separate houses." Evelyn said, "Divorce would be too scandalous, so he'd have probably have affairs, and I'd just have to suffer through it."

"I'm glad he wasn't a bad man." Michael said, "I'm glad you're not condemned to that life."

"Thank you."

Before the conversation could continue, they were interrupted by the opening of the door. His mother stepped into the room, and despite the smile on her face, her hawkish eyes were trained on Evelyn. Sizing her up, trying to get a measure of her, figure out her intentions.

"We're all going to have the pie now." She announced, and despite Michael's annoyed look, they rose from the chair, "I'm Polly, Michael's mother." She introduced, positioning herself in between them and the door, "What's your name?"

"Evelyn Seymour." She answered, "I was a friend of Grace's. I was there, at the Charity Ball."

"I remember." Polly said, "I don't remember seeing you at the wedding, or the funeral."

"I was visiting my family in Staffordshire during the wedding," Evelyn explained, "And, I thought that the funeral should be for family and close friends only. I didn't want to impede on anyone's grief."

Polly seemed to be satisfied enough by her answer, turning away to lead them into the larger room, where everyone else had gathered. The three men - well, two men and a boy - narrowed their eyes at her as she entered. Clearly, she was not entirely welcome.

"Everyone, this is Evelyn Seymour." Polly announced, "She's the one who brought the pie."

"It's delicious," the woman from earlier said, "What's your secret?"

"I didn't make it." Evelyn admitted, "But I can get the recipe for you."

"Who made it than?" The oldest of the men asked

"The cook." She said, innocently, annoyed by their snickering, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"I'm Arthur," he replied, turning to point towards the others, "That's John, Finn, and Ada."

"It's lovely to meet you all." Evelyn said, smiling at them

The men seemed almost put off by her manners. Clearly they were either expecting her to silently take their mocking, or to react with blatant anger. But that was not what she had been taught.

The group fell into a chatter, and Evelyn remained practically glued to Michael's side. By every minute she grew more comfortable, and actually quite enjoyed the company of Ada. But this made her careless. And when Michael was beckoned over by Arthur, Polly quickly took his place. No doubt the whole thing had been her plan.

"So, where do you live?" Polly asked, "You said your family was in Staffordshire."

"Yes, they live there, and that's where I was raised." Evelyn said, "But I live here, in Warwickshire. In Ragley Hall."

Usually, Evelyn was not one to openly flaunt status or wealth. But, for some reason, she wanted to impress these people.

"That sounds like a fancy name for a house." Ada said

"Well, it's an estate." Evelyn explained, "They're usually called Halls, or Abbeys, or Parks."

"And you own that by yourself?" Polly asked, the rest of the room now listening in to the conversation

"Well, no. Technically I don't own anything." Evelyn said, "It belonged to my deceased husband. I'm living in it until the end of the year, upon which the new lord will move in."

"Where will you go?" Ada asked, sounding almost concerned

"Assuming my family hasn't sold me to another husband," she said, "I will move into the Dower House."

"What's that?" Ada asked

"It's where widows are sent to die." Evelyn deadpanned, eliciting some chuckles from the others, "No. Widows go to live there when the lord gets a new wife. New mistress for the house, out with the old one." She explained, "Does tend to create tensions with the in-laws."

"I can imagine." Polly said,

"So, you're married to a lord." Arthur said, "What're you doing hanging around our Michael? He sure as shit ain't a lord."

"Arthur," Polly scolded, "Watch your language around the lady."

Evelyn didn't reply, unsure as to what Arthur exactly expected her to say. It was certainly unusual for the widow of a Marquess to be spending her time with gangster's. No matter how far they had risen. Aristocrats tended not to ignore where a person came from.

"Oh, is that the time," Evelyn said, noticing the clock, "I said I would be back by now."

"I'll walk you out." Michael offered, glaring at Arthur

"Thank you for the pie." Polly said, "It was very nice."

"It was nice to meet you all." Evelyn called out, before turning to follow Michael out of the house

"Thank you for returning my jacket." Michael said, "It was good seeing you again."

"Likewise." Evelyn said, and she was about to walk toward her car, when she suddenly spoke up, "Do you have a pen?"

Michael frowned in confusion, but nevertheless, pulled a pen from his pocket and handed it to her. Grabbing onto his hand, she scrawled something on the back of it. Placing the pen back in his pocket, she began to back away.

"What'd you write?" He called out

"My address." She replied, "Come by for afternoon tea."

"When."

"Whenever." She said, smiling as she got into the car, it not fading the entire drive home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to its rightful owners**

* * *

 _"And yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays."_

 _A Midsummer Night's Dream_

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 **Chapter Three** :

A week had passed and she hadn't heard a single word from Michael. It had been foolish of her to hope for anything between them. They came from two very different worlds, and pursuing a romantic relationship with him could possibly amount to social suicide. And even though she was perfectly aware of that, she was still disappointed.

Sitting by the fire in the library, she found herself unable to concentrate on the words. After having read the same line three times, she finally set the book aside, letting out a sigh. As such, she was not at all bothered when her lady's maid entered the room.

"My Lady," Sophie said, "You have a visitor."

"Bring them in." She nodded

She was sure the visitor was just one of her friends making their regular visits, and was very much surprised by the person Sophie led into the room.

"Michael," Evelyn said, immediately standing up, pressing down her skirts, "What are you doing here?"

"Ah, you invited me," he replied, "For afternoon tea."

"Yes. Right." Evelyn said, turning towards Sophie, "Can you please bring some tea and cakes to the drawing room?"

"Of course, my lady." Sophie said, nodding before leaving

"Follow me," Evelyn said, leading Michael out of the room, "I thought that I invited you over a week ago."

"As I recall, you said whenever." Michael pointed out

"That I did." Evelyn replied, more impressed by his comeback than embarrassed, "But, generally speaking, it's considered rude to not take up an offer within the week."

"Then I'm only a day late."

"A day late, is still late." She said, opening the door and stepping inside the drawing room,

The room was large and well furnished, with a chandelier and paintings covering the walls. It probably seemed ostentatious to Michael, and suddenly Evelyn felt self-conscious. Watching him intently, she took a seat on the lounge.

"I'll have them light a fire," Evelyn said, "It can get rather chilly in here."

"Are you cold?" He asked, beginning to pull his jacket off

"Oh, you don't have to do that." She assured him, waving it off, "Please, take a seat."

There was something different about him, in the way he acted. It was far more similar to the night they met, then when she had visited him. The stoicism was derived from politeness, not defensiveness. A necessity to keep up appearances, as opposed to suspicion of her intent.

"Has Mr Shelby returned?"

"Yes."

"Is he okay?

"No."

"Of course he isn't, why would he be." She muttered, "Stupid question."

"Polite question." Michael corrected, smiling slightly at her, "It's a beautiful house. Very large."

"I don't know how many times I've gotten lost in here." Evelyn admitted, "When I was a child, my brother and I would play hide and seek in our house. Always took us forever to find each other. Even longer when our cousins joined in." She smiled at such fond memories, but they just made her miss her younger years more, "Do you have any siblings?"

"No." Michael said, "Well, a younger sister but she died, and I don't remember her. And, a younger foster brother."

"Foster?"

"Yes. I was, taken from me mum, when I was young." He explained, "It wasn't her fault. They took because of who she was."

"I'm sorry about that." She said, honestly saddened, "Do you still see your foster brother?"

"I haven't really seen any of them," he admitted, "They weren't to happy about me finding my mother."

"That's unfortunate." She said, "For them, and you."

Their conversation was interrupted by the maids entering with the food, and Evelyn was secretly glad for it. They were straying into oddly intimate territory, just like they had done last time they had been alone. If she was sensible, she would ask one of the maids to stay. But sense seemed to escape her whenever Michael was concerned.

Setting the trays of food and tea down on the tables, Sophie nodded at the pair of them as Evelyn offered her a thanks, before ushering the others out. One particular maid was rather reluctant to leave, her eyes trained on Evelyn's companion.

"It seems like Daisy's taken a fancy to you." She said, picking up the tea that had already been prepared, her particular order already being known

"Who?"

"The maid." Evelyn said, pointing towards the door they had exited from, "She couldn't take her eyes off of you."

"Are you jealous?" Michael asked, smirking at her

"No." She shrugged, "You weren't looking at her."

Michael chuckled at her, placing a scone on his plate and bringing it closer to him to eat. The slight flirtatiousness of their interactions was not foreign to her, it was how ladies were expected to treat suitors. In fact, had they been with company, she would be deemed too frank.

"Oh, you've got a bit of," Evelyn told him, gesturing to her own face the placement of the cream

Once his first attempt failed to clean it off, she reached out, using her thumb to wipe it away. It was terribly improper of her. Even more so when he caught her hand as she tried to pull it back.

Their eyes were locked together, her breath hitching as she realised just how close their faces were. And how much closer they were getting. The involuntary flick of her eyes down to his lips was all the encouragement he needed, before he pressed his lips against hers.

The first thing she noticed was the sugary taste of his mouth, no doubt from the scone he had just consumed. The second, was that her lips had instinctually began to move against his almost immediately. Her husband had only ever given her chaste kisses, and whilst there were others before that, it was perhaps the lack of romantic affection she'd received that had her moving her hands to the back of his head. This was more than just improper, it was unbecoming of a lady.

She knew that, and thus, a part of her was relieved when they were once again interrupted. Pushing him away, she hastily attempted to regain her composure as she called out for the person to enter.

"Would you like me to start the fire, my lady?" Daisy asked, and Evelyn didn't miss the way her gaze travelled to Michael

"Ah, no, there's no need." Evelyn said, standing up, "I think I'll show Mr Gray around outside."

It was just an excuse to diffuse the charged situation, but she was still slightly annoyed at the girl for forcing her to see sense. She wanted nothing more than to throw caution to the wind and keep kissing Michael. But she couldn't.

Still, that didn't stop her from slipping her hand into his to pull him out of the room. Perhaps it was only because of the wanting looks Daisy was casting his way, or maybe she just wanted to have her hand held.

"Mr Gray?" He asked, "I thought you called me by my name?"

"If I did, she would run off and tell the rest of the staff about my familiarity with a stranger. And a male one at that." Evelyn explained, "I'm not embarrassed. Not at all." She assured him, "It's just, I've been taught my entire life that the most important thing was keeping up appearances."

"And why's that?"

"Because reputation is the most important thing to a noble family." Evelyn said, "Most of us don't have day-to-day jobs, so our social lives are the most important things. One does everything to avoid ostracism, otherwise life would be frightfully boring."

"I can understand being bored with your life." Michael said, "Before I found my mother, I hated the village I grew up in. It was too,"

"Picture perfect." She offered, "You found yourself screaming inside, wanting nothing more than to escape it all."

Freedom was a common dream among young women, which was usually squashed by marriage and children. Then, it was expected that a woman would fall into an ever selfless role, dediting nothing for herself but the contentness of her family. It had always seemed, from the topics that all other ladies had obsessed over in their youth, that a woman's entire life led up to her marriage. After that it was all babies and married bliss. You would think, that with so many of their parents only playing the charade of happiness, they would have a less idealised view of married life. Or, perhaps, that was the very reason why.

"The gardens truly are beautiful," Evelyn said, "I often go riding around in summer."

"You have horses?"

"Of course. I made sure to bring my own when I moved here." Evelyn said, "I couldn't just leave her considering how many trophies I've won because of her."

"Trophies?"

"You, my dear sir, are looking at a championship showjumper." She said, proudly, it being one of her few accomplishments that was not intrinsically linked to her family status, "I haven't competed in awhile though."

"Why?" He asked, "Because of your husband?"

"It wasn't seen as appropriate during mourning." She explained, "Do you ride?"

"I love horses." He said, "I was kind of disappointed when we moved into automobiles."

"Would you like to go out riding?"

"Are you sure it's not too much trouble?" He asked, "And, you're hardly wearing suitable clothing."

"I could ride in anything." She said, "A dress won't stop me."

Once the horses were saddled, and Evelyn had changed into the riding boots she kept in the stables, she led him out across the lawn. They journeyed far enough away from the house that they were allotted some amount of privacy, free from the prying eyes of servants. Dismounting the horse, she tied the the reins around the branch of the tree, Michael following in suit.

There was a chill in the wind, and she regretted not retrieving a coat before they left. Not that she had really thought out their departure, or the repercussions of it. She had just wanted to be alone with him.

"You were right," Michael said, "This is beautiful."

"I come out here almost every day." She said, "It's such a peaceful place."

She deliberately left out the part where Samuel had been the one to show it to her during their courtship. Or the fact that he'd asked to be buried there, but his mother had requested he be placed with his father and the rest of his family. It was tradition, and nobility rarely strayed too far from tradition.

"Here," he said, placing his jacket around he shoulders, having noticed her shivering, "Better?"

"Much." Evelyn said, stepping closer to the tree, reaching her hand to lean against the bark, "I had my first kiss under a tree just like this one," she told him, "He was a stable boy. A maid caught us and told my mother, who told me that under no certain terms was I to ever do it again."

"Because he was a stable boy?"

"I was only fourteen at the time," she said, "But had a been a few years older and doing that, it would've caused quite the scandal."

"And, if I was to kiss you now, under this tree," he said, moving closer to her, "Would that cause a scandal?"

"Yes." She admitted, her eyes never leaving his, "But I still want you to kiss me."

That answer seemed to please him, as his flirtatious grin widened. Leaning his head down, she leant up to join their lips. This kiss started out as rather innocent, but soon grew with enough passion to rival the first. Without any intention, her back collided with the tree, but she was too distracted to notice the discomfort.

Once she felt his tongue on her lips, she pulled away, practically giddy with glee, a blush spreading across her face. At first, her eyes avoided his, but when she did look up, they were caught by the look in his eyes. She couldn't quite describe what it was. More than desire, but definitely not love. Something in between. Something, that had her satisfied with her decision to extend her invitation, and wanting to extend many more.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to its rightful owners**

* * *

 _"But love is blind, and lovers cannot see_

 _The pretty follies that themselves commit;_

 _For, if they could, Cupid himself would blush."_

 _Merchant of Venice_

* * *

 **Chapter Four** :

Over the course of the next few weeks, the couple spent as much time together as they could. When work permitted it, Michael would make visits to her house, and if he could not, then they would speak on the telephone. Many an afternoon, such as this one, was spent underneath the tree in the gardens.

Michael had his back up against the trunk, smoking a cigarette, whilst Evelyn laid her own back against his chest. No words were exchanged, as she read her book, and he watched. They were simply content, and only when she finished did he speak.

"So, what happened in this one?"

"Well, it's called The Curious Case of Benjamin Button," she said, "And it's about a man who ages backward."

"That does not sound fun." He commented,

"It really isn't, and he suffers because of it." Evelyn said, "Society rejects him, as does his family. Even his wife and son turn on him. And, eventually, he forgets his entire life and dies as a baby."

"Why do you read such horrible things?" Michael asked, "Don't most girls like love stories, and all that crap."

"I thought we had already established I'm not like most girls." She said, rolling her head to look up at him, before turning back, "Besides, the world can be horrible. And I like reading about other's pain. Makes life interesting, without me having to actually suffer."

"Oh, so you're just a pragmatist."

"Exactly."

The pair of them started to chuckle, until they heard Sophie calling out after Evelyn. Pushing herself up from the ground, she passed the book to Michael, before running across the grass.

"My lady, your father's here to see you."

"Oh, okay, I'll be right there." Evelyn said, "Take him to the drawing room."

"Already done." Sophie said, and Evelyn made to turn back, but she spoke again, "My lady, I know it's not my place to ask, but are you going to introduce Mr Gray to your father?"

"Yes." She nodded, "Do you not think it to be wise?"

"I think Mr Gray is a lovely young man, and I'm sure you father will like him," Sophie said, "But, I question,"

"You're right, it's not your place." Evelyn said, curtly, "I'll be in soon enough."

The concern was touching, but not even close to what she wanted to hear. It would be easy for Michael to impress her father personality wise, and she was sure that him being a commoner could be ignored due to his professional success. The only problem, was his family's business. Specifically, the rumours that they continued to conduct its less than legal operations. Though, she was sure they were more than just rumours.

"What was that about?" Michael asked, having watched the entire exchange

"My father's here." She revealed, "Unexpected visit."

"Would you like me to go?"

"No, stay," she said, perhaps a bit too quickly, "I mean, if you want to."

"Do you want me to meet your father?" He asked, pushing himself up from the ground

"Yes." She said, reaching out to grab onto his hand, "Now, there are just a few things to remember."

"Such as?"

"Don't use his name, refer to him as Lord Harrowby the first time." She explained, leading him back towards the house, "And after that, as my lord."

"I can do that." He said, his eyes widening from the nerves, "Do I bow?"

"No, but wait until he extends his hand to shake it." She said, nudging him with her elbow, "Don't worry, you'll be fine."

"If you say so."

But, despite her outward confidence, inside she was riddled with nerves. This would be the first time she'd introduced a man to her family. That is, a man she was romantically involved with. Of course, it would be considered odd for her family to not meet a suitor, even early in the relationship. Considering it was usually the family that introduced them.

Pushing that aside, she let go of Michael's hand as they entered the house. No matter how open-minded her father may be, that was something that would get them off on the wrong foot.

The Earl of Harrowby was an imposing man. Tall and broad chested, with perfectly combed brown hair and a thick moustache. His blue eyes immediately narrowed on Michael, only softening when he looked to his daughter.

"Father," she greeted, "What are you doing here?"

"I was just passing through and thought that I might visit." George explained, but Evelyn had the sneaking suspicion that one of the servants had notified him of Michael's constant presence in her home. His lack of surprise only gave reason to her hypothesis

"Of course," Evelyn said, turning back to Michael, "This is my father, the Earl of Harrowby." She introduced, "Father, this is Michael Gray."

"How do you do?" George said, extending his hand

"Good, thank you." Michael said, shaking his hand, quickly adding, "My lord."

"I see you gave him a crash course before coming in." George chuckled, "You're just as smart as your mother."

"Thank you." She muttered, "Shall we all sit down?"

The tensions did not ease as they took their seats, George sitting on the armchair next to the lounge they were on. Her father continued to eye Michael, and she could tell that Michael was torn between not wanting to back down from the challenge, and not wanting to affront her father. He was proud, that she could tell, and she didn't want him to sacrifice his dignity for her.

"So, Michael," George said, "What is that you do for a living?"

"I'm the Chief Accountant for Shelby Corporations." Michael replied, "We used to deal in horse racing, but we've since moved into automobiles."

"Ah, I hear that's a booming market." George said, "How's business?"

"Very successful." Michael proudly proclaimed, "We've expanded to London, and moved into exportation."

"What are the profits of that?" George asked, and Evelyn widened her eyes in shock

Money was not usually considered to be an appropriate topic of conversation. But then she released what he was doing. Her father was aiming to asses Michael's suitability. He already lacked status, and her father was trying to see if money could make up for that.

"Currently," Michael said, "We're making £250 a day."

"That certainly is successful." George conceded, "And where are your family from?"

"Birmingham." Michael said, "It's a family business actually."

So far, things were going well. Her father was certainly impressed by his professional life and economic situation, but she knew that that could change very quickly if he discovered certain aspects of Michael's family.

"Evelyn," George said, "Would you be so kind as to ask the maids to ready a guest room for me?" He asked, "I'll be staying the night here."

"Of course." She said, getting up from the lounge

Before she left, she dared to reach her hand out to squeeze Michael's shoulder. It could be construed as improper, but she wanted to subtly show her father her commitment to Michael. Leaving them alone in the room was not something that she wanted to do, but she trusted Michael to win him over by himself. After all, he hadn't needed her backup just yet.

"So, you're interested in my daughter." George stated, "What are your intentions?"

"Intentions?"

"What I mean," He said, "Is are you courting my daughter with the aim of it eventuating into a marriage?"

"I, ah," Michael spluttered, "I hadn't really thought about it."

"Well, you might want to." George said, "Because if that is not what you want, then I will ask you to end things with her right now. You will not be breaking her heart, she's already risking a fair amount for you."

"What do you mean by that?" Michael demanded

"I did my research, I know who you are, where you come from." George revealed, "I know about your family's criminal connections. I do, however, recognize that you have made something of yourselves. And, of course, that I have no evidence of you partaking in such activities yourself."

"And if I had?"

"I pride myself on having raised my daughter to become an intelligent woman." George said, "I trust her judgement enough to know that she would not conduct a relationship with a criminal."

"Is that your prolonged way of telling me to leave?" Michael asked, "Because I won't."

"No," George replied, almost impressed by Michael's defiance, "This is my prolonged way of telling you to be careful with her." He clarified, "I want her to be happy, and if that is with you, than I can be okay with that. What I will not be okay with, is you dragging her into a life of crime."

"I wouldn't do that." Michael defended, "Not to her."

"Tell me, then," George said, "What are your feelings for each other?"

"I like her, and I think she likes me too." Michael said, "I, want to be with her."

"So you have thought about it." George chuckled, "I like you Michael. And I hope you'll do right by my daughter."

"I will."

Once Evelyn returned, she was glad to see the pair of them conversing casually. The fact that Michael hadn't left was a relief in itself, and there was now far more ease in their interactions. The afternoon seemed to fly away, and soon enough it was time for Michael to leave. Their goodbye was far more subdued than their usual ones, with him only pressing a kiss to her cheek, exchanging a handshake with her father before bidding them farewell.

"Who told you about him?" Evelyn asked, as they made their way back into the house

"Sophie did," George said, confirming her suspicions, "She was worried, and thought that I could settle her concerns."

"And?" She asked, "What do you think of him?"

"He's a fine young gentleman, might need a few lessons on etiquette before meeting the rest of our family, but I can see that he makes you happy." George said, "It will be difficult for many to ignore his background, but I will respect your wishes."

"Thank you, father."

It meant everything to Evelyn that her father approved of Michael and their relationship. There was one less obstacle for them, and at least one person on their side.


End file.
